The banging on the door sent shivers of terror through Anele. She had locked it before she went to bed because she knew Uncle Steve would try to come.

“Anele, open this door or else I’ll break it. Open the door, you piece of rubbish!”

He was also shouting now, and she knew he would wake the whole household. He didn’t care that they knew he came to her room at night. No-one cared. Not even Aunt Doris.

Her breaths were coming in quick gasps and her thundering heart was all she could hear. The lamp was off but her bedroom curtains fluttered in the night breeze and, in the half-light, she studied the pattern of flowers on her pyjamas. Even from here, she could smell the beer.

She had known it was going to be a tough night. He had started on Aunt Doris earlier, belittling her in front of their kids. They were all scared of this man when he drank. His tone was angry and he thought nothing of giving whoever was in his way a random slap. He especially liked to hit Aunt Doris, even in front of the children.

He was a beast when he was drunk; when he was sober he didn’t talk at all.

Bang, bang, bang! The door wouldn’t hold if he carried on, she realised. “I’m so tired of this,” she whispered aloud. She stood up and turned the key and he pushed it open and grabbed her shoulder.

“Take off your pyjamas. You should know by now what’s needed from you. I can’t tell you one and the same thing for all these years. Come on.”

He smelled like a shebeen and was battling to stand up straight but he kept his hand on her shoulder, his fingers crushing her flesh. Her pyjama top was off and then her pants. With a shove he pushed her onto the bed and a minute later he was sweating on top of her. When it was over he rolled off and was immediately asleep.

“This is the last time you sexually molest me, you moron,” she seethed.

Anele closed her eyes and breathed in, very deeply.

***

Tell us what you think: What might Anele be planning to do?